


Soft Within

by neverwondernever (thatgbppfrom10880MP)



Series: Within [7]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Orcs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 21:51:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15228642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatgbppfrom10880MP/pseuds/neverwondernever
Summary: A short fic about the creation of Orcs.





	Soft Within

“Soft,” he whispered, holding the new Children in his great, twisted hand. They were small, eyes closed, absorbed in their lives, writhing sleepily. To his armored carapace, they were indeed soft. Gently, he nudged them, one at a time, with a claw. His hand wavered in the effort it took to be so gentle.

They would grow. He hoped for this, his own creations, his Children. The One Above had its own Children; his siblings their own. But this was his first. And they were too small. He took his clawed finger away, fearful that he would cause them pain. Death was inevitable, yet in their awakening, he knew he would forever worry for that day to come. For now, they cared less of the world. They were too young, too defenseless.

They wiggled. They made weak mewling cries. They desired to eat, and he could not deny them. They were his and so very soft. Despite his desperate tenderness, he gouged at one of his sibling’s charges; cattle provided such nutrients in its blood and flesh. His claws easy sheered away its hide, so that he could pluck at the raw, living muscle underneath. The animal cried in its agony, yet he gave no care. His children must eat.

They scrunched and wailed at the sounds of the animal pain, yet at the gift of bleeding flesh, hot and steaming from its fresh, dying carcass, their cries grew in delight and hunger. The pawed for the meat, grasping and gnawing. They made work on his gift, eager, always so eager for nutrition. They would grow.

He gave them a place to rest. Nothing would be as soft as they, so they must learn to accept the harsh, hard world. He only had the land to give them—rock and soil. They made themselves comfortable in their own way, curled along the smooth rocks. They slept with hides of sacred cattle. He fed them, vast and towering, always a threat in his love.

They grew, only knowing him, for he could not yet share them to the world, not when they were still so soft.


End file.
